Goodable

North Carolina native Jase Garland’s NFL dreams came true on August 2, when the 12-year-old boy was invited to play as a quarterback for the Panthers during a training camp.

Footage filmed by X user @Ceegocrxzy shows Garland scoring a ‘touchdown’ following a handoff from Bryce Young.

“Play of the day,” the source wrote to X.

According to the Panthers, Jase was diagnosed with Myelodysplastic Syndrome, a form of bone cancer.

Prior to entering the field for Saturday’s FanFest, the boy got to meet the team and visit the locker rooms, footage shared the Panthers show.

North Carolina native Jase Garland’s NFL dreams came true on August 2, when the 12-year-old boy was invited to play as a quarterback for the Panthers during a training camp.Footage filmed by X user @Ceegocrxzy shows Garland scoring a ‘touchdown’ following a handoff from Bryce Young.“Play of the day,” the source wrote to X.According to the Panthers, Jase was diagnosed with Myelodysplastic Syndrome, a form of bone cancer.Prior to entering the field for Saturday’s FanFest, the boy got to meet the team and visit the locker rooms, footage shared the Panthers show.

A 12-Year-Old's Make-A-Wish was Just Granted, Scoring a Touchdown For the Carolina Panthers

Science Alert

A quarry in Ecuador has yielded an extraordinary find: amber dating back 112 million years that has preserved an entire ecosystem, complete with insects, pollen, and even fragments of spider web.

The discovery at the Genoveva quarry marks the first large-scale find of insect-bearing amber in South America. For paleontologists, it offers a rare window into life during the Cretaceous period in the Southern Hemisphere, a region far less represented in the global fossil amber record.

At least five orders of insects were trapped in the amber, including fungus beetles, wasps, a caddisfly, and several kinds of flies. One piece even contains strands of spider silk, arranged in a way that suggests it could have belonged to an early orb-weaver. Unlike modern orb webs, though, it lacked the sticky droplets that snare prey today.

"These findings provide direct evidence of a humid, resinous forest ecosystem and its arthropod fauna in equatorial Gondwana during the Cretaceous Resinous Interval," said paleobiologist Xavier Delclòs of the University of Barcelona and his colleagues in their report.

Gondwana was the giant supercontinent that once connected what is now South America, Africa, Antarctica, and Australia. By the early Cretaceous, it was already breaking apart, reshaping ecosystems in dramatic ways.

Amber is common in the Northern Hemisphere, with famous deposits in places like Myanmar and the Baltic region. But in the south, discoveries are far less frequent. The Ecuadorian amber formed during the Barremian age, about 122 million years ago, when coniferous trees released massive amounts of resin. Over time, this sticky material hardened into amber, locking away tiny traces of ancient life.

In this case, the amber came from araucariacean trees, once abundant across Gondwana but now represented only by a few species scattered in the Southern Hemisphere. The researchers found two kinds of amber at the quarry: one from resin seeping underground through tree roots, and another formed above ground when resin oozed out into the open air.

Most amber globally is root-derived, and usually lacks much in the way of fossilized insects. The Genoveva site, however, was unusually rich in insect specimens. It also lacked the abundant resin-eating fungi often found in other Cretaceous deposits, a difference the team suggests may have been due to unusually waterlogged soils that stifled fungal activity.

Above ground, though, the resin acted as a natural trap, catching and preserving invertebrates in exquisite detail. For paleontologists, these finds are more than just curiosities—they help reconstruct ancient ecosystems and track how life adapted as continents drifted and climates shifted.

"This discovery, and the associated plant remains in the amber-bearing rocks, enhance our understanding of the Gondwanan arthropod fauna and flora inhabiting forests along its western margin during a time interval of major ecosystem transformation," the authors wrote.

The team hopes further exploration at the site and in similar regions will allow comparisons with other Gondwanan amber deposits, which remain largely unstudied. Such work could help piece together how South American life once connected with its counterparts in Africa, Antarctica, and Australia.

The study was published in Communications Earth & Environment.

Scientists Unearth 112-Million-Year-Old Amber Ecosystem in Ecuador Quarry

Smithsonian Magazine

Meet Ned, a snail with a problem—and an entire country trying to solve it.

Ned looks like your typical garden snail, except for one key detail: his shell coils to the left instead of the right. That tiny twist makes all the difference. It means Ned can’t mate with the vast majority of garden snails, since their reproductive organs don’t line up. Only another left-coiling snail would work as a partner, and those are about one in 40,000.

Ned was spotted in August in the Wairarapa region, north of Wellington, by illustrator Giselle Clarkson. At first, she thought she’d stumbled across a new species. “Something was different, but I couldn’t figure it out,” she told the Guardian. “After you see something thousands and thousands of times looking one way, and then you suddenly see it the other way around, it is quite uncanny.”

She soon realized the shell spiraled left. Clarkson named him Ned, after Ned Flanders, the famously left-handed neighbor from The Simpsons. Then she realized the challenge: a lefty snail can only mate with another lefty.

That’s where New Zealand Geographic stepped in. The magazine launched a nationwide campaign asking people to check gardens, vegetable patches, and even under flower pots to see if Ned’s elusive match might be hiding there.

To make the odds easier to picture, evolutionary geneticist Angus Davison offered this analogy to the Washington Post: a London bus driver could lean out the window to chat with another London bus driver. But it wouldn’t work with a New York driver, because the steering wheel is on the opposite side. That’s Ned’s problem in a nutshell.

For now, Clarkson has made Ned comfortable in a fishbowl with broccoli and silver beet seedlings. She even gave him a right-coiling friend for company. But if he’s to start a family, it will take another lefty.

This isn’t the first time a snail like Ned has captured public attention. In 2016, a left-coiling snail named Jeremy in England became the subject of a similar campaign. Two potential mates were eventually found, though they initially paired up with each other. Jeremy eventually produced 56 offspring before dying in 2017.

As for Ned, compatibility isn’t guaranteed even if a partner shows up. “They might be physically compatible once they get together, but it doesn’t mean that sparks will fly,” Clarkson told CNN. “Their personalities will have to match.”

Garden snails aren’t native to New Zealand—they were brought in by humans, along with about 30 other snail and slug species. That means Ned doesn’t need to reproduce for conservation reasons. But the campaign is about more than matchmaking. It’s also about sparking curiosity.

“We hope it’s also a doorway into deeper topics like gardening, understanding the natural world and the weird intricacies of reproduction,” Catherine Woulfe, editor of New Zealand Geographic, told the Guardian. She added that her kids have been excited to grab gumboots and torches and go snail-hunting after dark. “That feels like a win.”

For Ned, the search continues. For New Zealanders, it’s a chance to slow down, explore their backyards, and maybe help a lonely lefty find love.

Why New Zealanders Are Helping This Rare Snail Named Ned Find Love

Talker News

A new study suggests music could be just what the doctor ordered for critically ill heart patients.

Researchers in Mexico found that music therapy significantly lowered heart rate and blood pressure among adults admitted to a cardiac intensive care unit (ICU). The intervention also reduced complications with ventilators, offering a safe, low-cost complement to conventional treatment.

The study, conducted at the University of Guanajuato in León, followed 24 ICU patients between July and September last year. All participants were over 18 and free of hearing impairments. Half received standard care, while the other half listened to a 45-minute melody at 15 decibels once a day for five days.

The results were clear: patients in the music therapy group showed a “significant” drop in systolic and diastolic blood pressure, lower heart rates, and fewer ventilator-related issues compared with the control group.

“Music therapy has beneficial effects on physiological distress variables such as heart rate and blood pressure, suggesting that music therapy can be a non-pharmacological and non-invasive intervention to improve physiological stability in a high-stress setting such as the cardiac intensive care unit,” said Dr. Ilani Paola Santoyo Pérez, the study’s first author.

She noted that music therapy is already recognized as a standard of care for critically ill patients in the guidelines of the Society of Critical Care Medicine (SCCM). “Clinicians should therefore consider incorporating music therapy into their practice, as it is a safe, low-cost, non-pharmacological and non-invasive intervention that complements conventional treatments,” Pérez said.

Beyond its medical benefits, the research team emphasized that music provides comfort and supports a more holistic, patient-centered approach to care. “By reducing physiological distress, enhancing patient comfort, and promoting holistic, patient-centred care, music therapy ultimately improves both the patient experience and clinical outcomes,” Pérez said.

The findings were presented at the American College of Cardiology’s Latin America conference in Mexico City.

A New Study Shows That Music Therapy Helps Critically Ill Heart Patients Heal

BBC News

At four years old, Kat Watson-Wood was fighting for her life. Doctors in Bury, Greater Manchester, discovered a brain tumour the size of a tangerine, and she endured major surgery and intensive rounds of radiotherapy. More than three decades later, she remains cancer free — but the treatment left lasting scars.

Now 37, Watson-Wood uses a wheelchair for mobility and battles fatigue, cognitive difficulties, and memory problems that eventually forced her to give up her nursing career. “I realise I’m very lucky. I’m here and I want to give something back to research to help keep improving things,” she said.

Her determination has led her to join BRAINatomy, a transatlantic research project funded by Cancer Research UK, Stand Up to Cancer, and its U.S. counterpart. The programme links teams at The Christie and the University of Manchester with researchers in Memphis, Tennessee, and Groningen, Netherlands. Together they are studying the long-term side effects of radiotherapy on children with brain tumours, with the goal of designing gentler treatments.

“By studying large sets of real-world data from children treated in the past, we have already identified areas of the brain where radiation exposure is associated with problems with learning and hormone regulation,” said Dr Angela Davey of the University of Manchester.

Lead investigator Prof Marianne Aznar explained the project’s aim: “to help clinicians design kinder treatments for children and improve quality of life for cancer survivors.” Because clinical trials on young patients to test different radiation exposures are not feasible, the team relies heavily on survivor data and personal insight from patients like Watson-Wood.

For her, those insights come from lived experience. She recalls the hormone treatments she needed to prevent premature puberty after her radiotherapy, and the emotional triggers that still linger. “Smells trigger memories for me and sometimes I’ll just burst into tears,” she said.

There have been dark times. Six years ago, she left nursing, the profession she had been inspired to pursue by the care she once received. “My body just wasn’t able to do it,” she said. She has since retrained as an IT executive and married her husband, Matt, in 2021.

Through it all, she insists on finding meaning. “I’m trying to make some good out of a bad thing. And show that you can live a successful and happy life even with side effects,” she said.

Childhood cancer survival rates have improved dramatically since Watson-Wood’s diagnosis in the early 1990s, but long-term complications remain a major challenge. Jemma Humphreys of Cancer Research UK said childhood and young people’s cancers demand a tailored approach. “From the types of cancer that affect this age group, to the long-term effects of treatment such as hearing loss and infertility, it needs a different and dedicated approach that we’re grateful to our supporters for helping to make possible.”

For Watson-Wood, the mission is personal. “Survival rates in the 90s weren’t fantastic. I don’t know anyone else like me. Nobody knew about the issues around side effects at the time,” she said. “I hope this research will help reduce if not eradicate long lasting side effects for future generations.”

This Childhood Brain Tumor Survivor is Joining Research Effort To Improve Life For Others

At the University of Alabama, football tradition runs deep. The practice field, hidden behind security fencing, is where championships are forged and where one man, Eddie Conyers, has quietly shaped the team for more than six decades.

Now 97, Conyers has been a fixture since 1962, when legendary coach Paul “Bear” Bryant first brought him in as a practice referee. For 60 years, Conyers lined up in the offensive backfield, tossing flags at some of the best players to ever wear crimson. This year, for the first time, he has stepped away from the field itself, taking on an off-field role overseeing scheduling and mentoring younger practice officials.

“I can’t tell you how terrified and intimidated I was,” he said, recalling his first day under Bryant. At the time, he was working high school games and a day job at a hardware store. He ducked into a gas station restroom to change into his stripes before heading to practice. “Coach Bryant talked low and he mumbled. I didn’t have a clue what he said. And I just said ‘ok.’”

Since then, Conyers has been part of 12 of Alabama’s 18 national championships, throwing flags at future stars like Joe Namath, Kenny Stabler, Derrick Henry, and Jalen Hurts. He also witnessed the team’s shift to a wishbone offense in the 1970s and its early integration as Black athletes joined the roster.

The coaches he worked under left different impressions. “From Coach Bryant you learn that you can do more than you think you can do,” Conyers said. “He talked about 110%. And wanted that every play of every game.” Of Nick Saban, he added, “it may sound kind of trite, but you did everything right. Including the little things, like which arm you use to carry the ball.”

Though his body shows the wear of years on the field—he needs a walker and his neck no longer straightens fully—his presence remains magnetic. He zips around practice in a golf cart, greeted by players and alumni alike. “Eddie’s the man. He’s the legend,” said Mark Ingram, Alabama’s first Heisman winner. “Always happy, always joyful. Made all of us happy to see him.”

That joy has also been a calming influence. “A lot of times when everybody was going crazy, he was the calm one in the bunch,” said Tom Danner, who works with Conyers on practice scheduling. Jeff Allen, Alabama’s longtime athletic trainer, calls Conyers “a wonderful link to the history and the tradition of this place.” He even notes that Conyers is the only man he’s ever seen talk back to Saban.

Conyers, a Navy veteran and former administrator at Alabama’s College of Continuing Education, has always treated the practice field as his passion. His son, Bubba, says his father values the playful connection with players. “It’s going to be funny. A lot of fun and no heartache,” he said.

Even as he scales back, Conyers hasn’t let go of every ritual. He and Peggy, his wife of 76 years, still show up at the Tuscaloosa airport before every away game, waving the team off with a hearty Roll Tide.

For Alabama football, Eddie Conyers isn’t just part of the history. He’s living proof of the traditions and relationships that have carried the Crimson Tide through generations.

A Veteran Referee is Keeping Alabama's Football Spirit Alive At 97

Hidden inside an Ohio prison, a group of men spends hours every day hand-feeding robins, nursing rabbits, and watching over fragile opossums. Their patients are wild animals, many injured or orphaned, brought in from across the state for a second chance at survival.

For more than two decades, the Ohio Wildlife Center has partnered with prisons to give animals a safe space to recover and inmates a rare opportunity to nurture life. What started in one institution has grown into a network of five. More than 60 incarcerated volunteers now participate, most at Marion Correctional Institution, which houses the only bird aviary in the system.

The aviary is small, about the size of a one-car garage, but inside it teems with life: swallows, cardinals, finches, and young robins. Outside, cages hold squirrels and rabbits, and a gravel pen shelters ducklings. Each animal is in the hands of trained volunteers like 71-year-old Willie H., who has spent nearly half his life sentence at Marion caring for wildlife. “In the early days, I was the go-to guy,” he recalled. Educators would train him, and he would pass that knowledge on to others in their cells.

Between January and August of this year alone, Marion received 284 animals and released 186 on the prison’s 1,032 acres of fields, groves, and ponds. Program coordinator and correctional officer Scotty Fuqua says his long-term goal is to rehabilitate 1,000 animals a year at Marion.

The demand is growing. The Ohio Wildlife Center’s hospital in Columbus treated about 9,000 animals last year, everything from birds stunned by window strikes to mammals mauled by pets. Many of those in need of extended care ended up in prison aviaries and makeshift nurseries. According to the center’s operational director, Brittany Jordan, about 70 percent of home care placements now go to prisons. “They need time,” she said. “And prisons are one of the few places where that’s possible.”

Time is what it takes. Some songbirds need feeding every 15 minutes. Mammals may require care throughout the night. At Mansfield’s Richland Correctional Institution, inmates have 24-hour access to a dorm room full of small animals so they can meet those demands.

That level of attention has produced real results. In 2022, Richland volunteers noticed young opossums developing bone disease. With guidance from the center, they diagnosed a calcium deficiency in the formula and adjusted the mix themselves. The problem disappeared. “The femur heads weren’t forming,” said David Donahue, the center’s communications manager. “They figured it out.”

For the inmates, the work offers more than just training. It offers purpose. “The effect that this program has on the offenders here is quite remarkable,” Fuqua said. He has seen participants stay out of trouble, steer clear of substance abuse, and show a new eagerness to learn.

Experts say the impact can reach beyond prison walls. “Programs like this teach practical life skills like goal setting, problem solving, time management and overall responsibility,” said former correctional psychologist Tristin Engels, who once worked with a California prison program that trained dogs for veterans with PTSD. “It also boosts self-worth and confidence, which can really help break the cycle of recidivism.”

For volunteers like Tierre M., who is serving a life sentence, the experience is transformative. “Some of these birds coming in, it crushes you to see them,” he said. “Then, to see one getting stronger and the life coming back in it, it’s awesome.”

The rules are strict. Volunteers must keep a clean record to remain in the program. Willie knows the stakes well. Years ago, after another inmate clashed with the warden, 12 red squirrels were removed from his cell in the middle of the night and reassigned to Willie. If he were to break the rules, he would lose not only the animals in his care but also Bird, the pet cockatiel that perches on his shoulder during feedings.

The program has grown steadily. The Ohio Reformatory for Women and London Correctional Institution both welcomed their first wildlife patients this summer, and the Wildlife Center hopes to keep newly paroled volunteers engaged in rehabilitation after release.

Willie says he imagines himself continuing the work, even pursuing a job in animal care. “I actually think it’s fun,” he said. “Doing it and other people seeing it might make them want to help, too.”

With almost 2,000 animals rehabilitated and released every year through prison programs, Ohio’s model is expanding. Behind the walls and fences, men who once took lives now find meaning in saving them.

These Ohio Inmates are Finding Meaning By Saving Orphaned And Injured Animals

Michelle and Stephen Milton wanted to turn their grief into something that could help others. After losing their four-year-old daughter Ivy earlier this year, the couple from Egremont, Cumbria, have set up a “letters to heaven” post box in their local cemetery.

The white box, installed at Egremont cemetery and managed by the parish council, is open to anyone experiencing loss. People can drop in letters, poems, drawings, or cards for loved ones who have died. Once full, the letters will be recycled into compost for the cemetery’s flower beds and planters.

“Ivy would be proud of what we have done and she'd love to use the post box as well, she loved to draw pictures,” Michelle said. She got the idea after seeing something similar on TikTok and was moved by the drawings Ivy’s classmates and teachers made in her memory. “I thought it was a lovely thing to do and I really wanted to do it here,” she said. “It’s absolutely for anyone to use, children and adults, we hope it will give people some comfort.”

The Miltons now want to install another post box at Distington Hall Crematorium in nearby Workington.

Ivy was born with spina bifida and used an electric wheelchair. Despite her condition, her mother said it never dampened her spirit. “She just lit up any room wherever she went, she had everyone laughing and smiling. She was just so happy, regardless of anything she went through.”

Her sudden death came as a shock. Ivy became unwell during a family trip to an Asda supermarket in Workington and was later told she needed open heart surgery. Doctors discovered she had sepsis, and despite surgery, she died on 3 February. “There was nothing else they could do,” Michelle said. “It was a shock, we never thought anything like this would happen.”

The family wanted Ivy at home before her funeral and were able to do so thanks to a cuddle blanket provided by a local funeral home. The cooling blanket allowed them to keep Ivy in her own bed. “We are pleased we brought her home,” Michelle said. “I would highly recommend the cuddle cots, take your child home, spend that valuable time with them until the day of the funeral, spend as much time with them as possible.”

Since then, the Miltons have raised more than £26,000 to provide cuddle blankets and cuddle cots to funeral homes and hospitals, including Newcastle’s Freeman Hospital where Ivy died. “We don’t want anyone worrying about having to find one,” Michelle said.

As Ivy’s birthday approaches on 5 November, Michelle plans to donate a hamper to Whitehaven Hospital for the first baby girl born that day, in her daughter’s honour. The family is also organising a fundraising event in January ahead of the first anniversary of Ivy’s passing to continue raising money for cuddle cots.

For the Miltons, the post box and their fundraising work are ways to keep Ivy’s memory alive and to offer comfort to others navigating loss.

‘Letters to Heaven’: Parents Honor Late Daughter With Mail Box to Help Others Cope With Loss

Two grandmothers proved that age is no barrier to adventure when they leapt out of a plane at 15,000 feet to raise money for their care home.

This week, Joan Small, 85, and Liz Lord, 75, skydived in support of the Royal Alfred Seafarers’ Society in Banstead, England, where they both live. The daring idea came from Joan, who suggested it as a fundraising challenge. Staff initially thought she was joking.

Months later, the pair were floating through the sky with wide smiles as family, friends, and fellow residents cheered them on from the ground.

“We both have had good lives but at our ages it was an experience we thought we would never get again so we might as well go for it while we could,” said Liz, who is originally from Australia. “It was absolutely wonderful. It was very adventurous for us both. We were so lucky that we got a very calm spell of weather.”

She admitted she was excited rather than scared, but said Joan had been nervous because she couldn’t see what was happening and had to put her full trust in the instructors. “We were looked after really well when we were down there. It was a very exciting thing to do, and we knew everyone was supporting us and backing us. It was a great idea,” Liz said.

The friends raised £6,000, which will go toward music therapy and sleep machines for residents.

Their decision to fundraise was personal. Both women had moved into the care home with their husbands, who passed away within a short time of each other. Liz’s late husband, Captain Alan Lord, suffered from dementia. In his honor, she and Joan also run a monthly memory café for other residents.

“We wanted to give back to the home and show others how wonderful it was,” Liz said. “We raised such a great amount of money that we can get more music therapy into the home. Everyone has supported us both through everything. We just can’t say enough about the support and kindness that we have here.”

The two grandmothers, who each have two children and families spread across Australia, New Zealand, and Wales, said the sense of community they’ve found at Royal Alfred has meant everything to them.

David Dominy, CEO of the Royal Alfred Seafarers’ Society, praised the pair. “We are always inspired by the determination of our residents and tenants here at The Royal Alfred,” he said. “Joan and Liz’s skydiving challenge is an excellent example of their adventurous nature and their zest for life. Their efforts remind us of the incredible community spirit that exists here.”

As for Joan and Liz, the skydive was just the beginning. They’re already looking for their next adventure. “We want to continue giving back to everyone else,” Liz said. “We appreciate all the people who have supported us, and we are looking now for something else to do.”

These Skydiving Grannies are Plummeting To Earth, For a Good Cause

ABC News

In Portland, Oregon, what started as a small clothing swap has grown into a lively community ritual. Fourteen years ago, Cassie Ridgway set out to keep clothes out of landfills, share fashion finds, and bring people together. Today, her twice-yearly swap, dubbed The Biggest Swap in the Northwest, attracts as many as 850 people.

“We have a DJ and two full bars, so there’s some singing and dancing. But no one’s getting drunk at 1 p.m. on a Sunday afternoon,” said co-founder Elizabeth Mollo.

The formula is simple: participants bring in gently used clothing, shoes, and accessories, which volunteers sort into piles. Shoppers pay a $10 entry fee to cover costs, then take as much as they like. Leftovers are donated to other neighborhood swaps. Ridgway, who worked in the apparel industry, says the event exposes the scale of fashion waste. “In this moment, we see the true ramifications of consumer culture and waste,” she said, recalling the towering “peak pile” of clothing that sorters work through.

The swap has become a lifeline for some families. Ridgway remembers a single mother who told her she was able to outfit her teenager in brand-name clothing she otherwise could not afford. “These conversations, and so many others, have truly kept me coming back to this event,” she said.

This kind of grassroots sharing is part of a larger movement across the U.S. to pool resources locally, one shirt, meal, or book at a time.

In Richmond, Virginia, Taylor Scott turned a surplus of homegrown tomatoes into a citywide food network. When the pandemic derailed her career plans, she decided to open a community fridge for her birthday in January 2021. She found an old refrigerator, got it painted, and placed it outside a café. It was an instant success.

“Right away, people asked me when I was going to open more,” Scott said.

Four years later, her group RVA Community Fridges runs 14 refrigerators around the city. Volunteers keep them stocked with donations from restaurants, farms, weddings, and private events. Scott estimates the group has redistributed more than 520,000 pounds of food that otherwise would have been wasted. The fridges have also become social hubs. “They started out taking and now they’re giving,” she said of people who went from food recipients to volunteers.

Books have also joined the sharing economy. Since 2010, the nonprofit Little Free Library has inspired over 200,000 miniature book-sharing boxes in 128 countries. The colorful huts provide 24/7 access to free books and often spark neighborly conversations.

“People tell me they’ve met more neighbors in one week than they ever had before putting up their library,” said Daniel Gumnit, the group’s CEO.

In East Los Angeles, Reyna Macias built her own library box to offer books in Spanish and English. She wanted to serve neighbors whose long work hours made it hard to visit the public library. Her little library now attracts dog walkers, children, and even one grandfather who brings his granddaughter every day.

“There’s a great library nearby, but many people in our community work long hours that don’t coincide with what the library offers,” Macias said. “Our little library is open 24 hours and has books in their language.”

Donations have been so plentiful that she now pushes a cart of free books to the local farmers market every Thursday. “For years, East L.A. has been looked down upon. But we’re a community that looks out for each other and takes care of each other,” she said.

From swapping clothes in Portland to filling fridges in Richmond and stocking book boxes in East L.A., these small-scale projects are changing the way people think about resources. For Ridgway, Scott, and Macias, sharing is not just about thrift — it is about creating connections.

“It’s an important time to show a lot of love,” Macias said. “This is my way of doing that.”

A Community is Uniting To Share Resources Through Clothing Swaps And Fridges

In one of the world’s densest cities, a small population of critically endangered yellow-crested cockatoos has carved out a home among Hong Kong’s skyscrapers and parks. But like their human neighbors, the birds are facing a housing crisis.

Native to Indonesia and East Timor, the snow-white cockatoos with bright yellow crests number no more than 2,000 mature individuals in the wild. Around 10 percent of them live in Hong Kong, where they squawk through urban parks and perch on banyan trees. Yet the city’s birds are running out of natural nesting sites, as old trees are felled by typhoons or trimmed back by authorities.

“They can continue to live in the city,” said Astrid Andersson, a postdoctoral researcher at the University of Hong Kong, “if we can provide the spaces.” Her team has begun installing artificial nest boxes, designed to mimic the cavities cockatoos rely on for breeding. A pair has already taken to one on the university campus, and Andersson hopes to expand to 50 boxes across Hong Kong Island in the next few years.

Globally, the species has been pushed to the brink by habitat loss, climate change, and the illegal pet trade. Up to 90 percent of yellow-crested cockatoos have disappeared since the late 1970s, according to the International Union for Conservation of Nature. Despite a 1994 export ban, trafficking persists. In one case in 2015, Indonesian police caught a man smuggling birds stuffed into water bottles.

Deforestation has compounded the decline. Indonesia lost 107,000 square kilometers of rainforest between 2002 and 2024, an area about the size of Iceland, according to Global Forest Watch. Rising temperatures and volcanic wildfires are intensifying the pressure. “The fires are humongous,” said Bonnie Zimmermann, director of the nonprofit Indonesian Parrot Project.

Hong Kong’s birds may trace back to pets released decades ago, possibly even during World War Two. But they remain at risk today. Captive-bred cockatoos are legally sold under international trade rules, yet no registered breeders exist in the city. A 2017–2018 survey found 33 cockatoos for sale in local markets, far more than official imports. Prices run high: a chick was listed for HK$14,000 ($1,800) in August.

Andersson has created a forensic test to distinguish wild from captive birds, a tool she hopes can help authorities clamp down on trafficking. “Hopefully, Hong Kong’s population will be able to contribute to saving this species from extinction,” she said, noting that the city’s birds may carry genetic lineages missing in their native range.

Some pet owners are unaware of their bird’s status. “It’s like taking away someone else’s baby,” said Dreamy Cheung, who bought her cockatoo Mochi in 2021 for more than HK$20,000, only to later realize it might have been taken illegally.

The government insists it is committed to enforcement, saying it conducts regular inspections and will investigate reports of trafficking. It also pledged to provide advice during tree-trimming projects to minimize impacts on wild cockatoos.

For conservationists like Harry Wong, who helped install new nesting boxes, the early signs are promising. A decade ago his first attempt failed. This time, seeing cockatoos move into a box just months after it was mounted, he said he was both excited and surprised.

“We can create small things in the city that allow the animals who live here to coexist with us,” Wong said, as cockatoos squawked in the branches above.

Andersson’s team plans to monitor the nest boxes with cameras to study reproductive behavior, a little-understood part of cockatoo life. For now, the birds remain a symbol of resilience in a city where space is scarce. As Andersson put it, Hong Kong’s cockatoos show that “humans and wildlife can coexist, even in a highly urbanized environment.”

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